


The Last Days of Summer

by LilacDove



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Coming of Age, F/M, Family Drama, Identity Issues, Love Triangles, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Daenerys, POV Jon Snow, Romance, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-19 05:56:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12404412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilacDove/pseuds/LilacDove
Summary: Regretting his past as a slaver and as a spy for King Robert, Jorah Mormont takes Daenerys Targaryen to Bear Island to save her from her arranged marriage to Khal Drogo. In order to protect her from the King’s wrath, Ned Stark agrees to take her in as his ward. In Winterfell, Daenerys attracts the attention of Ned’s eldest son but soon finds herself falling for his bastard. At the same time, she questions her identity and purpose as the last Targaryen. Meanwhile, Jon wrestles with his love for Daenerys and his duty to Robb.





	1. Daenerys

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first ever fanfic! I'm really interested in exploring how a relationship between Jon and Daenerys would've looked liked in their youth. I've seen a couple of other stories do this as well, and I was inspired to write my own take on it. This story has both book and show elements, but is mostly like the latter. The ages are a bit different, though. Dany, Jon, and Robb are older than they are in the books, but a bit younger than their show counterparts. Dany is sixteen, almost seventeen, while both Jon and Robb are seventeen, almost eighteen. 
> 
> UPDATE: I originally said that the Robb/Dany/Jon love triangle was at the center of this fic. It's not. This is ultimately a story about choice, particularly how two individuals who have suffered and been marginalized take agency over their own lives and start to make decisions for themselves. The love triangle plays an important role, but really, the development of Jon and Dany’s agencies is what this story revolves around.
> 
> Daenerys is figuring herself out and coming to terms with her family history, not toying with the emotions of Jon and Robb for fun or because she’s can’t make up her mind. Jon is learning about the struggle between love and duty and between individual desire and the responsibilities we have to our communities. Yes, this is a romance, but it's also a character study. 
> 
>  
> 
> Anyways, happy reading!

Bear Island was a dreary and cold land. Daenerys held on to the strong back of Jorah Mormont and stared up at the tall pine trees around her. She could not see where they ended and the gray sky began. After spending a lifetime wandering Essos, nothing could have prepared her for the frosted winds of the North. This was not how she imagined Westeros as a child. She had always pictured the golden deserts of Dorne or the rolling green hills of King’s Landing. She found it ironic that her first day, and perhaps her last, in the western continent was being spent on a remote island in the Bay of Ice. 

Pale-skinned and dark-haired warriors surrounded them on horseback. At first, she was shocked to see that the warriors included many women. Daenerys didn’t know much about Bear Island, but from what she had read about mainland Westeros, she knew it was uncommon to see female fighters. The women offered her no sympathetic looks. On the contrary, they looked at her either with wariness or scorn. _They must know who I am _, she thought.__

____

__

They certainly recognized Jorah. Immediately after he got off the ship, they raised their weapons. 

“Jorah Mormont,” a warrior woman had yelled in a booming voice. “You have been exiled from Bear Island and the entirety of Westeros. State what brings you here now or you and your companion shall be executed at once!” 

“I seek protection for Daenerys Targaryen,” he had responded. Some of the warriors had gasped in shock. “Her brother sought to sell her maidenhood to the savage Khal Drogo of the Dothraki. She is only an innocent child! Please let me speak to my father!” 

“Have you forgotten, Mormont? Your father took the black for you. He’s at the wall now. Your aunt, Maege Mormont, is the Lady of Bear Island now.” 

Daenerys had looked up at Jorah, afraid that this meant their journey was for naught. She could see the worry etched on his face. He swallowed. “Then please let me speak to her. I beg you. Let her decide what to do with us.” 

The woman, who she later heard was named Alysane, agreed to let them speak to Lady Maege. A warrior gave his horse to her and Jorah, and they rode to the seat of House Mormont. She lifted her head over Jorah’s shoulder and spotted the castle in the distance. It was made entirely of giant wooden logs, and thus blended well with its environment. She could not call it beautiful, like the castles in her storybooks, but she admired it for embodying the strength and ferocity of its inhabitants. 

They quickly reached the keep. On the gate, there was a carving of a woman with a babe sucking on her teat in one arm and a battle axe in the other. Jorah helped her down from the horse and discreetly whispered in her ear. “Keep quiet.” 

She tried to swallow her fear as they followed Alysane into the castle. It was as cold inside as it was outside. There were no statues or paintings lining the walls. There was only a dampness in the air. She could see why a highborn woman of the South could grow to hate a place like the keep. 

Jorah had mentioned his estranged wife, Lynesse, on the ride from Essos. He had spoken of her beauty, her disdain for Bear Island, and her betrayal in Lys. Daenerys felt pity for Jorah, forgetting that he had been spying on her for the Usurper for weeks. Any anger that she had left in her disappeared after he told her of his ghosts. Now he was risking his life for her. There was no doubt in her mind that Jorah Mormont was a good man. Her violet eyes fell upon his form fondly. _If I am to die, at least I have known great kindness._

____

____

Alysane opened an immense wooden door at the end of the hall. Jorah and her walked through, both gazing at the woman that sat on a wooden chair at the end of the room. Maege Mormont was short, stout, and gray-haired. She wore the skin of a dark brown bear and a spiked mace lay at her feet. Daenerys had never seen a woman quite like her. 

“I hear you have brought the Mad King’s daughter to Bear Island,” she said angrily, her Northern accent much stronger than Jorah’s and her voice deeper than that of a typical woman. “Have you lost your goddamn mind? Pray tell, what possessed you to do such a thing!” 

Jorah took a deep breath and spoke. “Her brother, Viserys Targaryen, planned to sell her to a Dothraki Khal in exchange for an army to invade Westeros. Daenerys is only a girl of sixteen. She did not consent to the marriage. I was to give her to the Khal myself. I…I would’ve been sending the girl to be raped by a savage.” 

“Why were you with the Targaryen children in the first place?” 

“I was spying on them for King Robert.” 

Maege laughed. “My gods, Jorah! From Lysenne’s dog to Robert’s dog. Will there be no end to the dishonor you bring upon House Mormont?” 

Daenerys grimaced at the remark. Maege raised an eyebrow at her. 

“You should’ve died with your mother as a babe, girl. What awaits you now at the hands of King Robert will not be pleasant.” 

Though it seemed to be a threat, Daenerys could hear some pity in her voice. The pity filled her heart with dread. She wondered what the King would do to her. 

“You plan on giving her to the King,” asked Jorah. 

“How can I not? Once he finds out she’s here, he’ll send a fleet to Bear Island. Perhaps he’ll kill her himself. Though, I suspect he’ll most likely make Jaime Lannister kill the girl. The Lannisters always do Robert’s dirty work.” Maege said the latter with great contempt. 

“We have to protect her,” Jorah pleaded. “Please, Maege. She is an innocent child.” 

Maege sighed and shook her head. “Is this how you plan to redeem yourself, Jorah? By saving this girl’s life? Out of all the girls that are sold into marriage, a Targaryen?” 

Jorah looked down at his feet sadly. “She may be a Targaryen, but she is still a girl. Just like my family shouldn’t pay for my sins, she shouldn’t have to pay for those of the Mad King.” 

Maege looked at Daenerys again. “What do you want, girl?” 

In truth, Daenerys did not know. She had been asking herself that very question everyday of her life. Jorah turned to her and nodded. “To live,” she replied, trying her best to look straight into the piercing eyes of Maege Mormont. 

The she-bear smiled. “Good answer.” 

She was quiet for a moment, contemplating what to do. “Send a raven to Ned Stark,” she ordered. “Robert will listen to him.” 

Her gaze returned to Jorah and Daenerys. “This is no guarantee that she’ll live. But she’ll have a better chance if it’s Ned begging for her life. Ned has quenched Robert’s thirst for blood before, perhaps he can do it again.” 

*****  
Ned Stark arrived in one week. He had written back to Maege Mormont promptly, agreeing to take in the Targaryen princess as his ward and to ask King Robert to spare her life. Daenerys spent the seven days before his arrival exploring Mormont Keep and talking to Jorah about the Warden of the North. Viserys had spoken to her of him years ago with disdain. He was one of the men responsible for the murder and destruction of House Targaryen. He had taught her to hate him. He had failed, mostly because she found it difficult to despise a man she did not know. Nevertheless, she did not understand why the man that fought to overthrow her family would now fight for her life. Jorah, however, had told her that Ned Stark was the most honorable man in all of Westeros. He never raped and pillaged, always spoke truthfully, and protected all innocent life. His only sin was that he fathered a bastard with an unknown woman, but he recognized the boy and let him live in Winterfell. 

“Do you think Lord Stark will succeed,” she had asked Jorah one morning, as they walked along the icy shore. 

“I don’t know,” he replied solemnly. “But like Maege said, he is your best chance.” 

“What will Robert do to me if he fails?”

He looked towards the water away from her. The sea was restless, massive waves crashed against the sand brusquely and strikes of lightning electrifying the water could be seen from afar. “It will be quick and painless, I promise you.” 

The Warden arrived in a relatively small ship bearing Stark banners, a wolf’s head over milky white and forest green. He was a rather tall man with a long pale face and long brown hair. His eyes were gray like Jorah’s, but darker and colder. A black wool coat rested on his shoulders. He greeted Maege with a nod and small smile when he walked through the wooden gates of Mormont Keep. He did not acknowledge Jorah and only gave a passing, sympathetic glance to her. 

Once they were all seated in the main hall, Maege Mormont spoke. 

“I thank you for sailing to Bear Island, Lord Stark. I apologize your visit is under such dire circumstances.” 

Lord Stark placed his arm on the table. “You have nothing to apologize for, Lady Maege. You have acted justly. As I said in my letter, I will take the girl as my ward and then head to King’s Landing to ask Robert for mercy. I swear on my life that I will try my best to make Robert see sense.” 

Maege snorted. “He’ll take one look at her silver hair and behead her himself. Robert’s hatred for the Targaryens knows no limit.” She pointed one chubby finger at Daenerys. “Look at her, she’s the spitting image of Rhaegar! Little nose and plump lips and all! It’ll drive him mad! He didn’t care that Tywin Lannister butchered Elia Martell and her two babes! No, he rewarded him for it! Robert sits on a throne drenched with the blood of children!” 

Daenerys began to tremble and her eyes burned, desperate to shed tears. Images of her beheaded body bleeding out at the feet of the Iron Throne flashed in her mind. Her life, as she had always suspected, was worthless. She had survived the Rebellion only to have Robert kill her himself sixteen years later. Her short life had been spent fleeing the Usurper’s assassins alongside her tyrannical older brother. She would die before she knew what love and safety felt like. 

Ned coughed. “Don’t cry, girl,” he said softly, trying to soothe the pain Maege’s words had inflicted. “King Robert is not the same man he was twenty years ago. Time has eased his thirst for revenge and Targaryen blood. He will see you for what you are, an innocent child. A girl of sixteen is no threat to his rule.” 

“Perhaps,” grumbled Maege. “But Daenerys is no child. She’s well past her first moon bleed.” 

“If you are so sure King Robert will slay Daenerys, why call upon Lord Stark,” Jorah replied, frustration evident in his voice. 

His aunt glared at him. “We have to be realistic. Lord Stark must confront King Robert knowing that the fat buffoon will give him a million reasons as to why he should kill the Targaryen girl.” 

They went back and forth in careful discussion for two hours. No one asked Daenerys to speak, so she never did. Instead, she wondered why they, particularly Ned, would risk their reputation in the eyes of the King for her. She understood that Jorah wanted redemption for his past as a slaver. He wanted to save her life to pay back the gods for all the others he sold and killed. As for Lady Mormont and Lord Stark, was it just because it was more honorable to save her than to kill her? Viserys, her own brother, was willing to sell her to unknown savages. These strangers, who fought against her family, were now going to question the king they placed on the Iron Throne and protect her from his fury. 

Her mind was filled to the brim with questions, questions that undermined everything she had once believed. Was she betraying her family, dead and alive, by accepting the aid of the Usurper’s dogs? Was it even just to call them dogs if they were so willing to defy the king by protecting her life? On the journey from Essos, she had thought night and day about the consequences of her escape. Would the Dothraki kill Viserys? She knew that she had betrayed him, but was it wrong of her to do so? Would Viserys hunt her down if he gained his army and kill her? Did she deserve to die at his hands? Sitting in the great hall of Mormont Keep, surrounded by people she had been taught to hate, she realized she knew nothing about the world or herself. The realization disturbed her. 

Lost in thought, Daenerys jumped at Jorah’s gentle touch on her shoulder. 

“It’s time to go, Daenerys,” he whispered. 

They left Mormont Keep and rode back to the Stark ship. She had no belongings, besides a book on the history of the Seven Kingdoms that Jorah had given her the day before they fled and three petrified dragon eggs from Illyrio Mopatis. “A wedding gift,” he had told Viserys when he questioned his intentions. She had never seen anything more beautiful than those three glistening rocks. One was a deep green with burnished bronze flecks that came and went depending on how you turned it. The other was a pale cream with golden streaks. The last egg, her favorite, was black as the midnight sea with scarlet ripples and swirls. Jorah had told her to leave them behind, as they were quite heavy, but she couldn’t. The eggs filled her heart with wonder and reminded her of a magical time; a time when her ancestors ruled the lands and their dragons conquered the skies. 

She had begged Jorah to let her take them. Seeing how fiercely she loved them, he conceded. He had smiled at her joy then. Now on the shore, Jorah regarded with her sympathy and sadness. Daenerys thought it looked as if it pained him to part with her. _It pains me. _While Ned and Maege spoke privately by the water, she embraced him heartily and closed her eyes.__

____

____

“Thank you, Ser Jorah,” she said, trying to convey her gratitude in her voice. “I owe you my life.” 

She could feel his uncomfortable hesitation, but eventually he tentatively returned her embrace. “It is Ned Stark that will save you, not I.” 

She let go and looked up at his rugged face. “If it weren’t for you, I would be with Khal Drogo at this moment, afraid and a maiden no more.” 

He smiled softly. “I suppose.” 

“May I write to you,” she blurted. Her cheeks reddened at her impulsivity. 

He shook his head and her heart dropped. “I do not know where you could send a raven. Maege has not yet decided where I should live the rest of my days.” 

“Will you write to me once you find a home?” 

He shifted uneasily. “Yes,” he finally responded. 

Daenerys smiled. Jorah was the only man in all of Westeros that she considered at least an acquaintance. His presence was comforting and for that she would miss him terribly, even though she had only known him for a few months. She hoped that Maege would find it in her heart to let him stay in Bear Island. 

“Come here, Daenerys,” Maege called out. 

Dany turned away from Jorah and walked towards his aunt. No longer in her ruler’s chair, she realized that she was about the same height as her. Maege put her hand on her shoulder. 

“No matter what happens, you must show no fear,” she stated firmly. “Though you appear beautiful, small, and frail, you are still a dragon. Dragons do not cower at the sight of stags.” 

Daenerys nodded. Admiration for Lady Mormont bloomed in her chest. She felt as if Maege was transmitting her bear-like strength to her through her calloused hands. She tried to capture that strength, so that she could keep it with her always. _I am a Targaryen. Though the bears and wolves aid me, I am still a dragon._

__Ned Stark took her by the arm and guided her towards the ship. Giving one last look at Jorah, Maege, and Bear Island, she boarded the boat to Winterfell._ _


	2. Jon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you for leaving such amazing feedback and constructive criticism! Keep it coming! Besides being new to fan fiction, I'm new to fantasy. I need all the tips I can get it! Also, shoutout to my best friend and beta! Thank you for all that you do! 
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> P.S. I hate html.

There was nowhere Jon was happier than out in the moors on horseback with his brother Robb. The cold wind blew life into his lungs and the vastness of the landscape made him feel wonderfully small. The world was so large and full of promises; he longed to explore it. From the shadowlands of Asshai to the snowy realms beyond the Wall, he wanted to see it all. Out on the moors, with Winterfell far from sight, he felt like he could. Robb would join him, and together they would discover new lands, mountains, and rivers. All of Westeros and Essos would know their names.

But that was a dream that could never be. Jon sighed and turned to look over at Robb. He was going to tell his brother that he would be heading to the Wall to take the black. As Lord Stark’s first-born son, Robb would stay in Winterfell and eventually become the next Warden of the North. There was no future for Jon in Winterfell. His name was Snow, not Stark.

“What are you sulking about now,” Robb teased, bringing his red stallion to a stop. His dark auburn hair whirled around his face and his sky-blue eyes gleamed with playfulness.

Though they shared the same father and were of the same age, Robb and Jon did not look alike. Robb favored his mother and her family, House Tully. As for Jon, with his black curly hair and solemn grey eyes, no one could deny that Stark blood ran through his veins. But their difference in appearance went beyond their coloring. Jon was lean and dark, while Robb was strapping and fair. Jon was graceful and quick, while Robb was strong and fast. Jon’s demeanor was always guarded, while Robb’s was always friendly.

“I’m not sulking,” Jon responded. “I need to tell you something.”

Robb’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What is it?”

Jon took a breath. _He will understand. _“I’m going to take the black. I’m going to join the Night’s Watch.”__

____

__

Robb’s face dropped with the weight of the news. He looked towards the far away horizon and said, “Yes, I suppose I always knew you would. You idolized the rangers when we were children and you asked Uncle Benjen too many questions last time he visited. All I can say is, are you sure you want to go now? You’re still young.”

Jon nodded. He had given this thought for many months. In truth, he had written to his uncle two years ago, asking to be taken to the Wall. Benjen had denied the request, but now he was older–practically a man–and he felt he would say yes.

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

Robb smiled softly, a hint of sadness in his eyes. Giving Jon a pat on the shoulder, he replied, “You’ll find great honor there. I’m sure you’ll be Lord Commander in no time.”

Jon chuckled. “Lord Commander? We’ll see.” He looked at his brother, mighty and good-hearted, and his chest filled with affection and sorrow. He would have new brothers soon, and thus would need to leave Robb behind.

“Enough with the brooding, Snow,” said Robb, taking hold of his horse’s reins. “This isn’t goodbye, yet! You still have your freedom! Perhaps you’ll finally take ol’ Ros to bed before you swear celibacy for the rest of your life!”

Jon laughed, though he was embarrassed that Robb knew of his virginity. He prayed to the gods that he hadn’t told Theon.

“I’ll race you back to Winterfell,” Robb challenged.

Jon smirked and kicked his horse forward without reply. Robb yelled after him, cursing and jeering, but he caught up soon enough. The race would be close, as it always was. For as long as he could remember, they were each other’s biggest rivals. Feeling sure of his fate and aware that this might be their last competition, Jon no longer cared about winning.

****

Theon awaited them in the Winterfell courtyard when they arrived. He stood with his lanky arms crossed and an excited expression on his face. Around him, the courtyard bustled with life. Carpenters and smiths drilled with wood and steel, servant girls gossiped as they did the wash, and the guards brought in the fresh kill for that night’s dinner.

“What news, Theon?” asked Robb, handing over his horse to the stable boy.

Theon smiled from ear to ear, exposing his childish crooked teeth. “Your father brings a new ward from Bear Island. A girl.” He widened his grin. “Daenerys Targaryen, the daughter of Aerys the Mad King.”

Jon was taken back. _A Targaryen? _He was typically wary of Theon, but now he saw no reason as to why the Greyjoy youth would lie about such a thing.__

____

____

“How can that be?” Jon inquired. “All the Targaryens were killed in the Rebellion.”

It had been seventeen years since Robert Baratheon took arms against the Mad King and his great royal house. His own father, Eddard Stark, had fought at his side. Since then, the Targaryens seemed more like mythical heroes and villains than real people. They roused admiration and hatred in equal measure. He wondered how a Targaryen girl ended up at the gates of Winterfell.

“Not this one,” Theon replied with a careless shrug.

Jon rolled his eyes. It was commonplace for Theon to not see the implications and consequences of serious choices. His father’s ward saw everything in life as amusing. He was a tall and lean young man of twenty, with straight brown hair that fell to his eyebrows and bright blue-green eyes that shone with cockiness. Jon found him to be vain and insufferable, but Robb somehow enjoyed his company.

“How do you know this?” Robb asked.

“I overheard Maester Luwin and Lady Catelyn discussing it in the halls. Your father will arrive today. A guard saw them approaching from the west.”

Jon looked around. Servants, maids, and guards scurried frantically throughout the courtyard, whispering words that sparked shock and concern. Jon worried for his father. Everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knew that King Robert Baratheon hated the Targaryens with a burning passion. Robert’s Rebellion began because Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, the eldest son of the Mad King, had kidnapped and raped Lyanna Stark, Robert’s beloved betrothed. Would the king consider it treason to house Rhaegar’s kin?

“I should speak to my mother about this,” Robb said, uneasiness growing in his eyes. He walked quickly into the castle, leaving Jon and Theon alone.

Theon stared after Robb. “What is he worried about? If anything, it might be nice to have a southern lass around to admire.”

Jon huffed with frustration. “Don’t you see, ward? She’s not just a southern lass for you to poke with your cock–she’s a _Targaryen _. And in case you don’t remember, King Robert wiped the Targaryens off the face of Westeros.”__

____

____

Theon whipped his head back to face him. “I know that, _bastard _,” he hissed.__

____

____

Annoyed at the slight and tiring of his presence, Jon left Theon without a goodbye and headed towards the kitchens. He never did have much affection for Theon, even though he had lived in Winterfell since he was a boy. If Theon were not so competitive and pompous, perhaps Jon would have loved him as much as he loved Robb. Since he was a child, Theon teased him relentlessly about his bastard status, well aware of how much it pained him. Now that he was seventeen, it no longer hurt him to hear Theon say he was not a true Stark, but he had never forgiven him for all the tears he caused in his boyhood. If he were a humbler person, perhaps Theon could see that he was more like him than Robb. Though he was a trueborn son of House Greyjoy, Eddard Stark had raised him, and thus he loved Lord Stark like a father. Jon knew it killed Theon to not bear the Stark name.

Jon opened the wooden doors of the kitchens, hungrily taking in the delicious scent of mutton and freshly made bread. Inside, the old kitchen wench Sherry laughed with his little sister Arya. They stood next to the fire, munching on slightly burnt bits of meat. Arya ran towards him once she spotted him.

“Jon,” she yelled excitedly, “have you heard? A Targaryen is coming to stay with us!” Arya walked around in a circle, bouncing with delight.

He smiled affectionately at his little sister. She was the only Stark child that physically resembled him. With her long face, dark hair, and grey eyes, Arya looked like a true daughter of the North.

“I have,” Jon replied, ruffling her hair. “Reckon she’s got a dragon?”

“Don’t be stupid, Jon. All the dragons are dead. The last one died–” she thought for a moment, “–well, I don’t remember exactly. But it was a long time ago.”

Jon wondered if Arya knew more about the peculiar situation than Theon. “How does your mother feel about her staying with us?”

“I don’t know. All she said was that I had to be kind to her. She said that though Daenerys is a Targaryen, she isn’t to blame for what her father and brother did to our family.”

Jon was surprised to hear how compassionately Lady Catelyn spoke of the Targaryen girl. It had always seemed as if she blamed him for the sins of his father.

“Your mother is right,” he replied with a stern look. “Be nice to the poor girl. She’s probably very frightened.”

“Why would she be frightened?” Arya asked, but before Jon could explain, the shrill authoritative voice of Septa Mordane called out,  
“ARYA! GET BACK HERE AT ONCE!”

Jon laughed as he watched Arya’s eyes widen. She grumbled some curse under her breath and stomped her feet.

“Best get to it, girl,” Sherry said, placing the mutton on the table to cool. “I’ll take you to her, come on.” The kitchen wench reached out her wrinkled hand.

“I’m eleven years old, Sherry. I don’t need to hold your hand anymore,” Arya whined. Nevertheless, she begrudgingly grabbed it.

After they were gone, Jon walked towards the stone table to grab a piece of mutton. Eating the fatty meat, he noticed a wooden training sword on the floor. _Arya must’ve left it behind. _He put down his food and picked it up. Memories of sparring with Robb as Ser Rodrick and their family watched came to mind. A much smaller Bran would sit on a bale of hay and cheer them on. His lord father and Lady Catelyn would watch from above, the former with a smile and the latter with a frown. Arya would escape her needlepoint lessons and peek at them from behind a wall. He had realized soon enough that it was because she longed to join them.__

____

____

Pity and understanding overcame him. Jon loved Arya dearly. Like him, she was an outsider, wanting a different fate than the one assigned to her at birth. Praise and acceptance came easily to their other siblings because they were exactly what they were supposed to be. Robb was handsome and brave, a perfect firstborn son of a great house. Sansa was beautiful and polite, the epitome of a highborn lady. Bran and Rickon were strong-willed and proud, the ideal bannermen. But, although Jon was a skilled rider and quick with a sword, some would say even better than Robb, he was a bastard and therefore denied greatness; Arya was fierce and spirited, but she was a girl and thus would never become the fighter she dreamed of being.

_Nothing is fair _, he thought sadly.__

____

____

Five maids carrying silverware fluttered into the kitchen whispering loudly and excitedly.

“Hurry, she’s about to step through the gates,” he heard Elyza laugh, “I want to see her pretty head before…”

The servant girl shut her mouth when her eyes spotted Jon. Though they had no need to address him formally, as he was a bastard, Elyza and her friends greeted him with a curt bow.

“Has the new ward arrived?” Jon asked.

“Just about,” Beth said gleefully. “Lady Catelyn and the children have gathered outside to welcome Lord Stark.”

Bidding them farewell, Jon rushed to the western wing of the castle. Lady Catelyn and his siblings stood patiently outside waiting for their lord. The rest of the household found their way to the courtyard as well, trying to seem occupied with work, but it was clear that they were there to see the last Targaryen. Jon could hear the galloping of hooves, and in a moment, Lord Stark and his party rode through the gates of Winterfell on horseback. He jumped off his steed and gave a smile to his loving family before he turned towards a small hooded figure that rode a spotted gray mare. He helped the figure off the horse and then ordered his soldiers to close the gates. After the doors were shut, the mysterious rider removed their hood.

Jon could hear the quiet gasps of the Winterfell household. His own lungs were left without breath at the sight.

Daenerys Targaryen was extraordinarily beautiful. From his lessons with Maester Luwin, he recognized that she possessed the otherworldly coloring of her ancient house. Her hair fell down to her breasts in silver-blonde waves and her doe eyes were the color of violets. Her skin was pale as snow, but the cold had painted her cheeks a lovely shade of rose. As she walked closer with his father, he could see her full lips, tiny nose, and thick brows coming together to form a seemingly perfect face.

“This is Lady Daenerys of House Targaryen,” Ned announced. The girl smiled gently.

“Welcome to Winterfell,” replied Lady Catelyn, no hint of emotion in her voice. “I am Lady Catelyn Stark, wife of Lord Eddard Stark.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” Daenerys responded, her voice barely above a murmur.

“These are my children. Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Rickon.” They all nodded. Jon wondered what Robb thought of the girl.

Lady Catelyn ordered a nearby maid to take Daenerys to her chambers and help her get settled. Jon noted that the girl had no belongings except a small wooden chest that couldn’t have fit more than a folded dress or two. The servants scattered away to gossip in the halls, and Jon knew that soon all the North would be speaking of her strange hair and violet eyes. Ned left to discuss private matters with his wife, while Ser Rodrick took Bran and Rickon to start their lessons. Septa Mordane dragged a reluctant Arya and a smug Sansa to the library to practice needlepoint. Soon, only Robb, Theon, and Jon were left in the courtyard.

“What a beauty,” Theon practically screamed. He pounded his chest with a wide grin. “She’s the Maiden in the flesh!”

Robb laughed. “I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you, Greyjoy. She isn’t one of your Wintertown whores; she’s a lady. A Targaryen lady, at that.”

“She’s a ward, just like me,” he replied defensively. “Ain’t nothing special about her anymore. All the Targaryens are dead. Plus, I’m the trueborn son of Balon Greyjoy! I’m no commoner.”

_You won’t be able to fuck her if King Robert takes her head _, Jon thought. He walked towards them and asked, “Why didn’t father say anything about her coming?”__

____

____

“He did,” Robb responded. “But he only told my mother and Maester Luwin. I imagine he didn’t want word to reach King’s Landing before he had the chance to send a raven to Robert himself.”

“Why did father agree to take her? Where has she been all this time? How did–”

Robb lifted his hands to stop him. “I don’t know, Jon,” he said. “My mother didn’t tell me much, but I doubt she knew the answers to your questions. Once I find out, I’ll be sure to tell you.”

Jon nodded. No matter what, he was confident that his father had made the best choice. Lord Stark based all his decisions on honor and justice, which was why Jon was proud to be his son, bastard or not. Yet, he couldn’t help but worry. The rest of the world was not as honorable as his father. Perhaps they would see that protecting a young, beautiful girl was an innocent act of compassion that would bring danger to no one. With her delicate features and small stature, Daenerys seemed more like a little dove than a fearsome dragon. The Targaryens were as good as dead if their last surviving member was a dainty orphan no older than seventeen. She was no threat to the Iron Throne, he was sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! Any feedback is welcome!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Any feedback is welcome!


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